


No Guts, No Glory

by zzzzzzzo



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Bad Puns, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Glory Hole, Humor, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Humor, but like, favorite thing i've written tbh, no super detailed sex dont worry all you kiddies, not really explicit - Freeform, obviously, oh man where do i even start, this is hilarious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzzzzzo/pseuds/zzzzzzzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of being separated after their respective periods of adolescence, John and Karkat meet again--on opposite sides of a glory hole.</p><p>No, seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Guts, No Glory

**Author's Note:**

> this might be my favorite thing i've ever written. like, seriously. i've had the idea for ages and now it's written and it's wonderfulll. seriously, read it. this instant. i command you. trust me, it's probably better than you think. certainly a bit more, like, serious? haha. like, it's in character and not OVERLY ridiculous to the point of being a trollfic. it's just hilarious. (sorryilikeitalot) but yes! thank you [mighty quinn](http://felinefan.tumblr.com/) for reading this over for me and being amazing and general. i am going to stop talking now.

Your name is John Egbert, and this movie is soooo boring. Literally. Something this dull and cheesy should be illegal to exist.

You grit your teeth, gaze longingly towards the exit. No, you must persevere! Your lack of success in maintaining a lover lately makes this research necessary; to see if these terrible, terrible films truly hold the secrets of elusive romance. That's what Karkat always used to say, anyway. Dave backed him up, but you had always figured he was doing it ironically, and Karkat, well, just plain had horrible taste. So you ignored them. Now, though, with Dave being much more successful in the romance department, you have begun to wonder if they actually _were_ on to something. And thus begins your noble quest of scouting out movie theaters, viewing the latest (and shittiest, you're pretty sure) romantic hits.

...Jeez, this thing is _awful_. Maybe this isn't the right strategy after all. Sure, Dave's a dweeb, but there are plenty of things that could have led to his unexpected success besides watching horrible movies. Not his looks or personality, you're sure, but something! If this method actually _did_ help, you'd probably have read some sort of article about Karkat suffocating and dying from being literally _covered_ in suitors or something, considering how much he loved these films. Though, you haven't heard from or about him since he moved in ninth grade, and the two of you lost touch soon after.

Which. Okay, ouch. You've stopped the gazing out your window longingly and sighing at the dispassionate moon by now, obviously, but losing your crush like that is never a fun experience. Especially when it wasn't even like some big fight or death or something that would have provided actual closure, no, you two just... Stopped.

...Yeah, okay, it's official. This movie is making your thoughts get all dumb and sappy. Time for a well earned bathroom break!

 

\---

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and this movie is fucking brilliant. Literally. Something this passionate and fascinating should be mandatory to watch.

You sit, engrossed completely in the plot, confident your eyes will never stray to anything else again. This is it. You have found the best film ever. Period. Of course, no perfect moment can last, and when some tall asshole walks in front of you, stumbling along the seats in probably the slowest, clumsiest manner possible, thus blocking your vision, you're about ready to commit homicide. God. Damn it. Not only that, the brief distraction allows you to become aware of the pressure in your bladder. Shiiiit. You had gone before this began too. No more ordering drinks during a movie ever again, no ifs, ands, or buts about that. In the meantime though, you're faced with the difficult decision between missing precious moments of the cinematic masterpiece, or peeing on the seat.

It's a tough call, to say the least.

Eventually you stand with a sigh, muttering curses under your breath. Even though you make your way out more gracefully than that other douchebag, a few of the theater-goers give you the eye. You glare right back. Even without you committing the blasphemy of rising during a movie, a lot of the attendees had been wary of you beforehand. You can't blame them; it's not common to see a short dark skinned man in his twenties at such a film, with discolored circles under his eyes and full lips set in a permanent scowl. You glare back anyway. Doesn't stop the looks from being irritating, however 'reasonable' they may be.

You walk quickly through the theater's lobby to the restrooms; you want to get back to the program as quickly as possible. You notice this place is a real shithole as you relieve yourself at a urinal. Cracks and slur filled prose galore on the mirror and stalls, two of the three sinks clogged, and what looks suspiciously like feces in one of the urinals. You don't look at _that_ one too closely. Hell, you can even see a, _oh for fucks sake_ , glory hole carved into one of the stall walls. _Christ._ What kind of world are you living in? This is just vile. Who even uses those anymore? It's ridiculous.

You nearly shit yourself when you see an actual cock poke it's way forth from the gap.

 _A pretty nice one too,_ you can't help but think.

 

\---  
  
Your name is John Egbert and you cannot believe it when you see a literal glory hole in your stall. Wow, okay. Those are still a thing? Hell, those were a thing in the first place?

You mean, you knew they were a thing. You just didn't know they were a _thing_. Are, considering there's one next to you now, a small orifice in your little refuge. Um.

What you can't believe even more is that you find yourself... _tempted_ by it. Okay, wait, back up, what the _hell?_ What on earth has possessed you to look upon sticking your dick through a hole in an unclean restroom's wall as anything but unappealing? Heck, to the point where as you unzip (you were never big on using urinals) and find yourself looking between the toilet and hole, as if debating the two options. You mean... You don't _really_ have to pee. That was just escaping from horrible acting and an even worse plot. But... Jeez, a glory hole?

...Okay, some of that could be desperation talking. It has been a while since you've had a lover, hence the viewing of a terrible movie. Even longer since you've had your dick sucked, since _never_ is a pretty long time. You're, well, pretty curious, and with how your lovelife is going, you doubt someone's going to be sucking your dick in an intimate way, or whatever, any time soon.

At some point, while lost in thought, you end up poking your somewhat hard member through the hole. Why the hell is this concept _exciting_ to you? God, that's messed up.

You don't really mean anything by it, though. It just kind of happens. Heck, you think the room is empty, and don't fully process the running of the sink for its connotations or anything besides background noise. You just do it to see what it feels like. Sort of cold and a bit of an ouchie; to have the rim of a not quite well-cut bathroom stall resting against your dick. You're all set to pull back, satisfied with your weird experiment for the day, when a hand brushes against you (your penis, more specifically) and you yelp.

 

\---  
  
Your name is Karkat Vantas and this is a really, _really_ bad idea. And not to mention nothing like you to do. Touching a random stranger's dick? One who'd actually stoop to using a _glory hole_ , no less?

Okay, what the fuck.

You just- he has a nice dick, and- some part of you feels a little admiration towards the guy, or something. It takes guts to stick your dick through a hole where anyone could see. You guess.

And, okay, you haven't gotten some in a while, and the thought of blowing someone about now is pretty appealing. The public aspect a bit exciting.

So yeah, you go over and just. Skim your fingers against it. A sort of polite hello, or something. Blink at the high, quickly cut off yelp that rises, the sudden jerk of movement from whoever it is. A moment later they still again, and you can't help but roll your eyes. What the fuck did they expect? You to scatter rose petals upon the shaft protruding from the wall?

Sorry, buster, you aren't playing flower girl today. You're the fucking bride on a honeymoon tonight. And so, you close and lock the stall with a quick movement, get on your knees, and lick the half-hard member from the tip to the closest you can come to the base. Pull back to start to suck at the head. Yes, okay, why has it been so long since you've sucked dick. It's fucking spectacular. It tastes, well, like a penis. Sort of warm, and like skin, with this masculine sort of feel you could never put your finger on. Satisfying, though: to feel it harden in short twitches as you work it, see it flush red, taste precum against the flat of your tongue as you suck and lick and bob. The small gasps you can occasionally hear from the owner of your new friend just add to the sense of fulfillment.

Then, your lidded gaze drifts downwards. Not with any particular intention in mind; that's just where it goes.

Worn, royal blue converses adorned with miscellaneous, darkened, and peeling stickers of stars and fruit. There are patches of the face of Nic Cage sewn over the shoes' logo.

Familiar.

Only one person in this world could ever own footwear so hideous. Only one person would ever continue wearing them even to this day.

Ho.

Ly.

Shit.

You choke.

 

\---  
  
Your name is John Egbert and you cannot believe this is actually happening.

Never in all your life did you think you would be blown by some random stranger in a bathroom stall. Through a freaking glory hole, no less.

Fuuuck, it feels great though. Not that you have any prior experience for reference, but this guy seems pretty freaking good at sucking dicks. Quiet as you've always been during, um, _things,_ you find it increasingly hard to keep the volume down as he goes on. Really, you're fortunate no one else has walked into the bathroom.

You can feel yourself getting close, can feel your heartbeat pounding to the point it seems to be roaring in your ears, have to actually dig your fingers into the wall of the stall to keep from moving. Just when you're wondering if you should like, warn him or whatever before you climax, the guy freezes. Goes stock still around you, gags and jerks back as if he'd been burned. You whine a little without being able to help yourself from the sudden cut off of pleasure when you're so _so close, oh god_.

“ _John?”_ The guy finally sputters. Coughs.

Wait, what?

“Um.” You blink, confused and still a little a lot aroused and trying to place that voice that's just out of your reach of recognition somehow. “...Yeeees? How do you- what?”

“Oh, my god.” You feel more than hear a thud, of what you're guessing is your little fellatio-er resting his head against the stall wall. Not gently, either. Yeesh.

His next words make you freeze. You don't think you could get off in a million years, now.

“John, it's me. Fuck. It's Karkat.”

 

\---  
  
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you think you've finally found something to beat throwing up on your first grade teacher and former crush as the most horrendously awkward moment of your life. Because, seriously. What the hell.

Literally, this is almost amusingly dreadful. Uncomfortable reunion? Try blowing your former close friend and love interest through a glory hole. Yeah, okay, you want to die. Now. Be sucked down the toilet into an impenetrable void and never face the world again. That would be pretty good, actually. Care to get on that, universe?

Apparently not. You're still here, in a room that smells like piss, head hurting a little and the boy of your dreams just a thin wall away. The one you had been sucking the dick of moments ago, thinking he was a stranger. Yeah, did you mention that's a thing, that you actually did? God.

“...Oh.”

The quiet utterance makes you curl in on yourself even more. Dammit. You try to keep your tone steady.

“Well, congratulations Egbert, against all odds, you have in ninety seconds managed it: a syllable! Truly, truly impressive work. I cannot imagine the effort you must have put forth to manage such a feat. Please, anything you'd like to share with the crowd?”

The wall of sass is comfortable and easy to fall behind. Your voice only wavers a little bit, which you guess you can be proud of right now.

You can practically see his puzzled expression through the wall, the birdlike cock of his head. See the small smile that slowly lights him up until he's positively glowing, just a moment before you hear him laugh a little.

“ _Well,_ now.” He sighs, fond and exaggerated and so _happy_ in spite of the situation. Fuck, do you love him. The thought hits you with sudden clarity, that no, years apart did nothing to sate that. You are still smitten with John Egbert, come hell or high water or several other partners you've learned to love as well, he's always there, ready to catch you when you fall out of a new love, warm you in the old, familiar affection still fresh and childlike somehow. You sink further against the wall. God damn it. Someone should seriously just punch you right now.

“So many people to thank, I don't even know where to start!” he continues, slipping easily into your old pattern of tossing sass back and forth like not a day has passed, like you hadn't been performing fellatio on him moments before and still have his dick, right by your face, actually. Hi there. “My father, of course, for bringing me life and always supporting me. He was quite skilled too, you know, actually managed one third of a syllable before he gave up. Oh, and how could I forget my _darling_ secretary, Karkat, who always knew both when to clean up under my desk and, well, help _ease my nerves_.” Snicker. You can practically hear his eyebrow waggle.

“You're a fucking goofball,” you tell him. With feeling.

“Your _face_ is a goofball.”

“Your _dick_ is a goofball.” You flick it lightly, pointedly, because it is getting a little weird having it just like, hanging there, softening now, by your face. Wouldn't mind going back to sucking it, but you can hardly do that at this point. Right?

...Right.

 

\---  
  
Your name is John Egbert, and you cannot believe you just had a whole conversation with Karkat for the first time in years without remembering your penis was sticking out right by him the entire time. Seriously. That is a new level of socially inept, or something.

You yelp when he flicks it, pull back hastily to work at your fly. Gosh, you are so glad he can't see your face right now. You must look like a, freaking, tomato, or a more creative simile. Those are really Karkat's specialty.

Oh man. _Karkat_ though. Awkwardness aside, it is so nice to see—well, hear—him again. Sassy and grumpy and so, so Karkat, and just. The very best. You are going to hug him, so, hard. Well, once you can face him again. So probably a million years from now, because _seriously,_ John 'let's have a friendly chat while my baloney pony is in your face' Egbert, get it together!

Of course, Karkat's on about the same train of thought as you there. “Are we going to keep talking through two bathroom stalls like a couple of gossiping teenagers in some shitty movie that has zero understanding of a high school's actual functions, or communicate like civilized adults who are seeing each other for the first time in years?” No mention of _how_ you two came to meet. Karkat is surely the best. The tact master.

(Well, sometimes anyway. Haha.)

“Uh, yeah, okay. That's. Good idea.” And it is. You really are sort of very excited to see him after so long, see if he still has those freckles along his nose and cheeks, still leaves his hair in a careless disarray of curls, still moves with almost aggressively bad posture, still is just, well, Karkat. That's it, you want to see Karkat.

 

\---  
  
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and while this conversation isn't going quite as horrendously bad as before, it still is pretty fucking awkward.

You exit your stall quickly, figuring you might as well treat this encounter like ripping off a band aid, something painful, but best to get over with. John, however, does not seem to share this same mindset, and must spend at least an hour fumbling with his lock before stepping out.

And...

Oh.

Well, fuck. He's hot.

Like, okay, that was already true, but now he's an adult and you're an adult and have more experience in appreciating hotness (a right fucking seasoned veteran, aren't you? God, that was a dumb way to word it), and it doesn't hurt you to know what his dick looks and tastes like. Somehow he grew into this mix of wayward and scruffy with naturally handsome features, basically looking like some K-pop star or something without even trying. Dark brown hair straight but tousled, the mess of cowlicks throughout leaving him all the more endearing. His overbite tugs at a full lower lip nervously, and god damn if those eyes that flick up at you shyly aren't still the bluest fucking things you've ever seen. Long story short, he's absolutely fucking gorgeous and awkward and _John,_ grown up but still vividly beautiful and dorky and sweet and you actually _gape_ at him. Which, okay, is sort of embarrassing and highly fucking idiotic of you, but he's just about doing the same right back so you guess you're in the clear.

After a long, drawn out moment that seems to last a lifetime, you clear your throat. “Not that the stare down isn't nice and all, but I'd personally prefer if we didn't do it in a place that smells like decomposing urine. Forgive my high standards.”

John snorts, those amazing eyes finally meeting your vaguely-reddish brown ones, crinkling when he smiles. The dimple in his left cheeks pokes out to say hello. “Hey yourself, dude. Can I hug you?”

“What part of 'urine stench' are you not getting here.”

“Well, yeah, but honestly, are you sure it's the location to blame?” He snickers, raising eyebrows at you pointedly. Douche.

“You're such a fucking two year old.” Why is it that he's lacking in maturity so much, yet he _still_ towers over you to this day like a goddamn tree? Unfair. (And hot. Crap.)

“Your _face_ is a-” he starts. Stops abruptly with a sharp intake of breath, eyes widening and you just _know_ you are going to regret this. John looks back at you, a shit eating grin overtaking his face. “Well, Karkat...” he begins in an 'about to tell a cripplingly horrible joke; run while you still can' tone, “if you reeeally don't like this smell, I guess... _Urine danger.”_

…

Yeah, okay, that's it. You're done.

“Well, it's been fun, but I think my John toleration threshold has been reached. See you in another ten years!” You turn and vacate the premises. John, of course, is hot on your tail.

“Awww, come on!” Still laughing as he easily falls into step beside you. “No need to vamoose on me like that. You have to admit, that was great!”

“John.”

“It must have _pee_ -leased you to hear it, I bet.”

_“John.”_

“You'll have trouble _flushing_ these puns out of the conversation!”

“Oh my god _you piece of shit.”_

Silence. It takes you a moment to realize your mistake.

“Christ shitting on a pickle,” you say in flatly horrified acceptance. John, meanwhile, is cracking up.

“Way to keep with the bathroom theme, pal! Oh man, that's like... serendipitous levels of good right there. Heh.”

“Have you ever, once in your life, shut the fuck up? Was your maw flapping away the moment you were born, spewing dribble of equal intellect to the shit you speak of nowadays even as you were expelled from your parent's vagina?”

“Dude, ew. That would probably really get in the way of the birthing process.”

“Oh god.”

“What if I didn't come out head first? Like, my shiny young butt was poking out and you just hear this muffled blather echoing withing the walls of my mom's-”

“ _Jesus Chirst can you actually fucking not I do not need that mental image right now.”_

“In what circumstances _would_ you need that mental image?”

“Oh my fuck. Just. Stop. Do you want the hug you were just tripping over your crotch to get to already or not?”

“Oh, right!” He blinks and laughs a little, unperturbed. Turns and tugs you to him without a moment's hesitation. Ah. That's. Nice. Nice how he immediately squeezes you, tighttighttight but not so it's restricting, just close. Nice how your head lies right against his clavicle, resting perfectly as if it belongs there. Nice how he stops giggling and just sort of sighs when you hug him back loosely around his waist, nice how he rests his head in your hair. So nice, slotting together in this way that's imperfectly perfect. Fuck, you really love this dumbass. You loved him, and you still love him, and considering how long this has lasted, you'll probably love him for a long, long time.

You are so, so screwed.

 

\---  
  
Your name is John Egbert and Karkat is seriously gorgeous.

Like, okay, he was adorable when you guys were teens, and he still has that now too; freckles and a button nose and the usual grumpy growliness, of course. But... there's something, more, you guess. You don't even know how to describe it. You mean, it's like...

While you're hugging him, you wonder what his face looks like. So you do a bit of mad ninja skills and crane your neck to peek down at where he has the side of his face rested against your chest. Smooshed cheek, nose going all wonky, eyes closed. He's smiling. A tiny, contented smile, like he's not even thinking about the face he's making. Karkat's smile, it looks like summer, his favorite season. He looks like when you fell for him.

Summer afternoon, sitting outside since your Dad kicked you off the computer. Cicadas chirping and scratchy grass, sticky popsicle dripping on your hand and beads of sweat collecting on your forehead, and glancing to your right and seeing your best friend smiling up at the cloudless sky, relaxed and peaceful when he murmurs to you that blue is his favorite color. The entire moment as a whole surrounding that instant that made your throat close up, letting your treat drip and melt all over your hand, mosquitoes crawling across your stilled form. And you didn't even care, not thinking fully in that second, just feeling, feeling your heart practically clench. Not the organ you learned about in science that year, no, seventh grade you wasn't that stupid. You knew then, as clear as now.

That's what Karkat looks like when he smiles. A summer afternoon. And it's gorgeous.

Doesn't hurt his lips are still slightly reddened from sucking your dick.

Wow, _okay,_ that came out of the left field! You bite back a squeak while your cheesy thoughts from before practically recoil in horror. Yeesh.

“Um... What are you doing?” Shit, mayday, mayday, Karkat has opened his eyes! And is scrunching them up at you, all confused and a little worried, and ohgod why is he so cute. “You look a bit-”

“Nothing!” You are definitely not looking at his swollen mouth. Nope, not in the least. Of course not. “Nothing, just. Yeah, thinking. So! Now whaddoya wanna do?”

Blink. God damn, why does a man in his twenties have to look like such a puppy when he's thinking. You are going to explode. Just as your debating spontaneous combustion or spontaneous kisses, a look of horror crosses Karkat's face. Not just your _average_ look though, nosirree. This is one of true desolation, of impending doom, of the, like, legit apocalypse. _“Shit,”_ he whispers as his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Oh, Jesus, oh, god fucking damn it!”

_“What?”_

Karkat gazes at you solemnly, arms still clasping yours. Defeated, heartbroken. “The movie.”

 

\---

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and your life has officially come to an end.

You cannot believe yourself. How on _earth_ did you manage to forget the very gospel of all movies? The one calm within the storm, the only solace in this horribly fucked up world? Okay, it may be reasonable to forget in light of meeting your crush again, but that's not what made you initially forget. Nope, and you know what did? Gave a 'stranger' a blow job in a fucking restroom! God, what the hell is wrong with you?

John fails to grasp the severity of the situation.

“...What.”

You tell him the title of what you had been viewing. “Jesus. I can't believe I missed it! You should have seen it John, it is seriously fucking beautiful... And it's probably over by now too, I'll have to come back again so-”

“Karkat.”

“What?”

“That movie is shit. Who cares.”

You blink, mouth agape. Did you... Did you actually just hear that. For real. Holy fucking shit, this is unbelievable.

“...Excuse me?”

“Um, I was seeing it too? And it sucked?”

“You think it- wait, back up. Do you mean to tell me you actually grew a single brain cell and managed to pick a sensible movie to see in the theater? What led to _that?”_

John blinks, for a moment stumped. But then he looks... Well, embarrassed. Coughs, scratches the back of his head. “Uh... Long story. Anyway, it doesn't matter!”

“Well, yes, it kind of fucking does, considering you're throwing shade at the fantastic movie you paid to see.”

“Throwing shade?” Giggle. “Dude, saying that is so...”

“John, you were receiving a blow job from me in the men's restroom not five minutes ago. I'd advise you not to complete that sentence.” You roll your eyes flamboyantly, grinning at his flush despite sporting one of your own at the thought. “At any rate, that film was fan-fucking-tastic. Case closed, period, the end.”

“Hmm...” John frowns for a moment, eyes squinting in concentration. A sudden smile lights his face, quickly forming a delectable grin. You have a feeling you aren't going to like whatever he says next. “If we can't agree now, I guess... we'll have to talk this over again later? Such as, oh, I don't know... dinner, tomorrow night? Seven o'clock? At _Au Poivre_?”

...Okay, so you were wrong about the not liking it bit. He just, he just _asked you out._ To the fanciest restaurant in the area. Holy shit.

“...Are you trying to seduce me, Egbert?”

Wink. “Naturally.”

“...I'll be there.”

 

\---

 

Your name is John Egbert, and you actually cannot believe how smooth that line was. Seriously, who knew? Maybe the shitty romcom really did help you step your game up. Now, however, you are not so smooth. In fact, you are, for lack of a better phrase, freaking out.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

EB: dave dave dave dave dave.  
TG: sup  
EB: dave i am in a panic you do not GET IT.  
TG: shh babe i got this  
TG: come into your best bros bosom  
TG: i shall brush a hand across your tender cheek and hang on to your every panicked syllable  
TG: fingercomb your hair and hold you close as you speak  
TG: lay it on me man i can take it  
EB: eww.  
EB: it's kind of a long story but basically I saw karkat again for the first time in years and it was awesome but now we're going on a date tomorrow or at least, i think it's a date? i mean, i tried to phrase it like one and I think he got it but i'm not sure and what if he doesn't think it is and what if i over- or under-dress and what if he doesn't like me anymore and what do i do?  
TG: woah  
EB: i know right!?  
TG: dude  
TG: chill  
TG: shorty aint that hard to please  
EB: i mean, i would think so, but it's been like, forever! what if he's changed in some way i don't know yet?  
TG: only one way to find out and thats to go for it yo  
TG: quit worrying your lil head about it and just wait and see what happens you hear  
TG: all goes well and maybe youll get to tap that ass like billy elliot  
EB: did you just reference that like, musical?  
TG: that i did  
TG: got a problem with that  
EB: no! it's just kinda silly, haha.  
TG: you cant tell since i dont use punctuation but i am dot dot dotting at you so fucking hard right now got that  
EB: would it kill you to just actually type the ellipses? a few periods couldn't actually hurt your shitty typing cred or whatever.  
TG: shh john  
TG: shhhhhh  
EB: you're so lame dude!  
TG: shshshhshshh  
EB: hehe.  
TG: so tell me more about the vantas incident  
TG: howd you two happen upon each other in a moment of miraculous serendipity  
TG: give your good palbuddy dave all the details yo  
EB: um  


\---

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are flipping the fuck out. John Egbert, yes, _that_ John Egbert, the hot, mixed race beanpole whose eyes are probably the eighth wonder of the world, asked you out. Actually.

Well. You think he did.

\-- carcinoGenesis [CG] began pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \-- 

CG: IF SOMEONE ASKS YOU TO THE FANCIEST RESTARAUNT IN THE AREA AND RESPONDS WITH THE AFFIRMATIVE WHEN YOU ASK IF THEY ARE ATTEMPTING TO WOO YOU DOES THAT CONSTITUTE A DATE?  
GA: I Would Assume So  
CG: OH OKAY.  
CG: SO WHAT SHOULD I WEAR THEN?  
GA: I Require More Detail Than That To Determine The Optimal Outfit For Your Given Situation  
CG: UM.  
CG: SUCH AS?  
GA: Who Is This Aforementioned Charmer  
CG: REMEMBER JOHN FROM WAY BACK WHEN? SHITTY TASTE IN FASHION, MOVIES, AND BASICALLY EVERYTHING FATHOMABLE? HAIR THAT GOES ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE AND A LAUGH THAT JUST GRATES AT YOUR EARS LIKE A GODDAMN SYMPHONY THAT YOU JUST CAN'T ESCAPE; ITS CONSTANT BARRAGE IS AT THE BACK OF YOUR MIND EVEN AFTER TEN YEARS AS YOU STILL CONTINUE TO LIE AWAKE THINKING OF THE PERFECT DISASTER YOU'LL PROBABLY NEVER SEE AGAIN?  
CG: THAT GUY.  
GA: Oh Karkat  
CG: NO TIME FOR ANY OH KARKATTING, I NEED ADVICE AND FAST. WE ARE MEETING AT AU POIVRE IN APPROXIMATELY TWENTY SEVEN HOURS AND MY WARDROBE IS HOPELESSLY INADEQUATE.  
GA: He Invited You To Au Poivre  
CG: I KNOW RIGHT.  
GA: Karkat Honey That Is Most Certainly A Date  
CG: ALREADY COVERED THAT. JUST WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO WEAR TO THIS ENGAGEMENT?  
GA: Ah Yes Of Course  
GA: From What I Recall Said Dreamboy Had Horrendous Taste In Clothing Last I Saw Of Him  
GA: I Assume This Hasnt Changed  
CG: HELL NO.  
CG: FUCK, THE FIRST THING I SAW WAS THOSE TERRIBLE CUSTOM NIC CAGE SNEAKERS HE STILL WEARS BECAUSE HIS FEET ARE INHUMANLY DAINTY AND HE WAS GIVEN NONE OF THE WORLD'S DISSAPOINTLY SMALL STORE OF COMMON SENSE.  
GA: How Horrible  
GA: That Being The Case Id Imagine Fashion Will Not Be A Matter Of Concern  
GA: Unfortunately  
GA: A Standard Inexpensive Suit Will Serve You Well In This Case  
GA: Moderately Formal Wear Will Be Needed To Get Inside Of An Establishment Such As Au Poivre But Clothing Custom Made Or Of Any Skill Or Substance Will Not Be Necessary  
GA: Im Sure I Can Find Something To Suit Your Incredibly Crucial Needs In Such A Precarious Situation  
CG: THANKS KANAYA, YOU'RE A FUCKING LIFESAVER.  
GA: Of Course  
GA: I Do Have One Query However  
CG: YEAH?  
GA: What Situation Were You Two In That Led To Johns Shoes Being The First Thing You Saw  
CG: UM  


\---

 

Your name is John Egbert and you actually cannot believe what you're hearing.

“A reservation? What do you mean, I need a reservation?”

The waitress bites back a sigh. She looks like her patience is wearing thin to the point she's ready to be rid of you, by any means necessary. “My apologies, sir, but we're booked for the night. I'd advise you to call ahead from this point on.”

“But... But... You can't be serious. Couldn't you, like, make an exception?”

“I'm sorry sir.”

You can't believe this. You cannot freaking believe this. After that big ole suave show you made of inviting Karkat to such a extravagant restaurant, you can't even get a table when you show up at the door. This. This _sucks._

“...Okay,” you say finally, dejectedly. Walk away, half hoping she'll call you back in with a last minute change of heart. She doesn't. You encounter Karkat at the door.

“Oh... Hey!” He greets you, fumbling shyly for a second. He looks criminally adorable with his curls damp from the rain and his suit slightly too big for him so the sleeves hang past his hands. His hair looks as if he attempted to comb it, a feat you wouldn't believe possible, and you feel like the worst person in the world for acting all confident and making him get all dolled up and wet, and for what? Nothing.

“Um... Hey. You, uh. You look good.”

“Thanks...” Karkat trails off, furrowing his brows at you thoughtfully.

“So you agree? You think you're really pretty?” you joke half-heartedly. That's one of Karkat's favorite movies, right up there with all his other favorites, and yet he doesn't even smile.

“Are you okay?” he instead asks slowly. Damn it, your humor was supposed to disguise how much you feel like a kicked puppy! Oh god. Well, you suppose you were gonna have to tell him eventually, but still, ugh. Ughhh.

“We, uh. We can't get in. They're like, reserved. Completely.” Even the small number of seconds that follows your reveal is agonizing. “Sorry,” you blurt.

“Oh. Well.” Karkat looks disappointed, even when he keeps his voice deadpan. “Well,” he says again, and cracks his knuckles. Looks you in the eye finally. “Want to go for a walk then?”

Okay, you sure weren't expecting that.

“...What?”

“Why the hell not? There's a park not so far away. It could be nice.”

“It's, like- It's raining.”

“I don't mind.”

“I. I mean, okay, but. Karkat, what about-?” He looks up at you innocently, and you swear you can see the beginnings of a gentle smile in the corners of his lips. You falter. “I mean... Aren't you mad?”

“Shh...” He tiptoes, and for a moment, for a moment you can swear that he's gonna, and he doesn't. Just allows that small smile to glimmer for a moment, fingers skimming the lapels of your coat before he retreats. “It's okay. Let's go.”

“But-”

“Come the fuck on!” Karkat scowls at you exaggeratedly, and, aww, seems like his mind finally grasped what he just did because he's as red as a beet. “I said it's fine, didn't I? If you wanna stay there like a depraved stump and block the door for the poor people who have the misfortune to encounter your dumbassery then that's fine, but I sure as hell am not waiting up for you, shitlord.” He turns and leaves through the door with a huff, whipping it behind him smoothly. His exit is just as smooth and twice as sassy as Elsa's at the end of _Let It Go._ It takes a moment for you to grasp what just happened, and a moment more to burst into giddy laughter. You half jog out the door after him, giggling as your hand immediately goes to give his wet curls a vigorous ruffle.

You are so, so in love it is not even funny, except that it totally is.

 

\---

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you cannot believe the amount of sheer nerve you just flaunted without even thinking about it. Seriously, what the hell? That was seriously a fucking- _shameless_ display back there. You are going to actually die of embarrassment. You almost wish he hadn't followed you when you left, because you are absolutely fucking mortified.

And know what just makes things worse (better)? The two of you are now sharing an umbrella as you walk without speaking. Seriously, what kind of cliché even _is_ that?

...Well, maybe, it's your own fault for not grabbing an umbrella. You didn't want to be late, okay. You don't hold culpability at all, nope.

“Which way is the park?” John asks, voice seeming quiet under the onslaught of rain. It's the first thing he's said since his laughter trailed into silence. Not the smartest idea to check whether you two are going the right direction literally five minutes into walking.

“Just this way. To our right.” Your own voice isn't quiet from just the rain, and you have to repeat yourself. “Don't worry, you won't miss it. The cherry blossoms are fucking gorgeous this time of year. Well... Probably won't be much of a sight in this weather, not to mention at night.”

“Don't know about that. Those conditions sure aren't hindering you.” Wink.

“Stop being so fucking smooth. It isn't fair.”

 _“I'm_ being smooth? Did you hear yourself a minute ago? That was freaking crazy dude. Not to mention, _you_ aren't the one who invited someone to dinner without making a reservation.”

“Shush. Quit worrying about that. It's not _that_ bad... Well, yes it is, but you know.”

“Hey!” John sputters. Smacks you lightly with his free hand. You can't help but notice that the arm not holding the umbrella has grown wet from his efforts to ensure you're completely dry. _Shit._ “You aren't supposed to say that. You gotta be like...” He flutters his eyelashes, mimicking a high, accented voice. “'Oh, don't say that John, you're totally perfect and I super much want to suck your dick again! _Oh~!'”_ This last exclamation is an exaggerated, wanton moan. You are just about ready to commit murder. Instead, you bump into him lightly, look up at him through your annoyingly long eyelashes.

“Well... maybe later,” you all but purr, hand sliding over to ever so slightly squeeze his butt. John isn't the only one who can be an asshole, ha! And you surely aren't the only one who can get flustered, clearly, judging by how he jumps nearly a foot at your touch. Your grin is probably the largest it has ever been as you observe his red face and extended silence.

“I. Um. I.”

“Oh, there it is!” You laugh more than speak then, hand slipping easily away. You lope easily into the rain, figuring a little water won't hurt. This suit is fucking itchy anyway. You stand under the first tree you encounter, smiling as you gaze up at the pink flowers shaking gently in the rain. You count to ten seconds before John finally gathers his bearings and joins you. Guess you really pulled one over him, hmm? Hah. “Gorgeous, isn't--” That's all you manage to say before your back is against the trunk, firm yet somehow gentle hands on your shoulders. You blink rapidly, struggling to clear your vision of the droplets of water sticking to your lashes. It doesn't help much, his glasses are fogged and scattered with specks of water, preventing a clear look at his eyes. “...John?” you say slowly, startled. Your stomach swoops.

“You're such an _ass,”_ John says quietly. His face is close, so close your hand brushes his chest when you reach to push his glasses up on his forehead. Close and blue and, and, thank _god_ for the tree behind you because you can feel your knees grow weak.

“...Yes. Yes I am.” You finally manage, words losing some of their power with how your voice squeaks forth.

“I kind of want to like, kiss you. As in, right now.”

Welp.

“...I'm okay with that.”

And you are.

 

\---

 

Your name is John Egbert, and Karkat's lips are just as soft as they look.

This is awesome.

 

\---

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and hell yes.

Hell.

Fucking.

_Yes._

 

\---

 

Your name is John Egbert once again, and no, seriously, this is _awesome._

It starts as slow and tender, and wet. Seriously, kissing in the rain is a quite moist activity. You gotta say, it isn't half bad though, especially when you feel fingers curl into your soaked jacket, pulling you lower, closer, deeper. Your own hands go to Karkat's back, holding him close, and no, seriously, this is awesome. Pressed against each other, nary a space between the two of you. You have had awesome kisses before, of course, but this one is great because it's happening right now. And it's Karkat. So yes, this is the best.

Also, you slide your hand still lower to squeeze his butt, making him squeak against you. An eye for eye, right? God damn though, he has the _best_ ass. Ever. And it's soaked. Dude. Duuuuude.

“Hmn... John...” Karkat pulls back slightly after a while to speak. So, so close, god, you can hear his quiet words in spite of the downpour. His eyes are lidded, his face flushed. Tousled, curly hair sticks to his face from rain. He's absolutely gorgeous. You actually cannot believe you've been making out with this gorgeous boy for the past several minutes.

“Mhmm?” You mumble distractedly, following as he retreats to drag your lips along his jawline. Niiiiice.

“Fuck, just... Hey, quit that, I'm talking.” He backs off further, face forming a moue. Fingers tap against your chest, betraying his trepidation. “I mean. Sure, we've known each other for longest time and all that shit, but like, it's been years, and, we've got a lot of catching up and crap to do which I was planning to do at dinner, I guess, look how well that turned out...” He snorts, shakes his head rapidly. Droplets hit your face haphazardly. “Fuck it. Anyway! Don't you think we're going too, fast?”

Blink. It honestly didn't occur to you until just now. It just feels so natural to pick up where the two of you left off way back when; you so forgot that you've missed out on a good chunk of his life. One you'd like to learn more about, really. Still, you can't help but crack a little joke, smiling cheekily even as you back off some to show you get it. “Dude, you're the one who was all over my dick the moment you saw me.”

Karkat rolls his eyes, even as he grins back slightly. “Please. That could have been _anyone's.”_ And for the first time, you realize and fully process that he's right. It really could have been anyone. At all. But it was you.

God, just the thought of Karkat going down on anyone else makes you cringe inwardly. What if he got an STD or something? What if the guy could have been a dick? What if... Well, what if it was anyone besides you?

Yeah. No.

“Say, uh, Karkat...” It's your turn to twiddle your (significantly longer than Karkat's) fingers, against the small of his back. “Um... This is going to sound _really freaking weird,_ and don't take it the wrong way, but. Yeah. I'm glad it was you back then. I guess.”

Karkat blinks. For a moment you're worried he's going to yell at you, or something, because seriously, that sounds totally perverted and possessive. Instead he lowers his gaze, mutters, “Me too,” and tiptoes to kiss you again. Chaste, without the urgency from before. Shit, is that nice. He lingers for only a moment before drawing back. “Can we go eat somewhere? I fasted all day out of sheer nerves, so I'm fucking starving.”

Your stomach rumbles. Whoa, you totally forgot about that whole food thing. “Yes. That sounds awesome.”

“My treat!” Karkat interjects rapidly, before you yourself can make the chivalrous offer. He cuts off your protest. “Absolutely fucking not. I have claimed the holy and unfailing right of the Dibs. Besides... You're going to treat me to _Au Poivre_ some other time anyway, right? Preferably with an actual meal this time. I'd advise a reservation, dumbass.”

Oh. Well. Okay. While it isn't exactly your favorite pastime purging your money on overly expensive rich food, you can't help but smile anyway. The assurance of another date in the future makes you way happier than it should, to be honest. “Aw, well... Okay. I guess so. Haha, you just want to treat this one so you pay less. There's no way we could make it into anyplace fancy with how wet we are right now anyway.”

“Cannot confirm or deny.” Karkat's grin is brief and sweet. You think you've see him smile more in this one evening than throughout all of high school. Well, maybe not, but it is quite nice anyway. Just as nice when he takes your hand with ease, completely naturally, and starts chatting aimlessly as the two of you begin your search for somewhere to dine.

 

\---

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and several years, and awkward responses when asked how the two of you reunited, have passed since then.

The day is April 3rd, the same day you two had your strange encounter all those years ago. John insisted the two of you go to that very same bathroom to celebrate, for some fucking reason. He calls it your “Fellatio Celebratio.” It's fucking ridiculous. Especially considering he hasn't felt the need to do so the past several years you've been together, so why now? And honestly, you would've have preferred a more dignified celebration, such as watching that amazing movie from back then for the nth time.

“I'm not going to blow you again,” you inform him impatiently as you near the theater. Someone gives you a look. “Just so you don't set your expectations too high.”

“Haha, duh!” John snickers. “I get enough blowjobs without being in public anywammphhhhh!”

“Eugh!” You exclaim, yanking your hand away from where it had been covering his mouth. “Don't lick me, fuckmuffin!”

“Not what you said last nightmmmph!” And thus the cycle continued of mouth covering and licking. As usual.

Eventually, the two of you reach the (blessedly empty) bathroom. John goes straight to a stall at one side of the glory hole which is, for _some_ reason, still there. Seriously, what kind of maintenance does this bathroom have? You roll your eyes and try not to think about how unsanitary this is, and of all the unnamed dicks that may have protruded from this hole, as you walk into the adjacent stall. “...Seriously, John, I'm really not going to blow you.”

Through the hole you can see two blue blue eyes roll. A cursory glance tells you he's gotten down on one knee. “I get it, jeez. That's not it at all.” He digs around in his pocket and... Wait, is that a...

Oh.

_Oh._

It's a velvet ring box.

Holy shit, is he actually... Is he seriously going to...

He does. Smiles at you cheekily, carefully pokes the box through the hole. Your hand is shaking when you take it. Open the box slowly, and...

Huh.

“Um...” You eye the ring skeptically. Looks cheap for one thing, which you don't mind so much (it's the sentiment that really counts), but it's also... “John. I think this might be a bit too big for my ring finger. Or, any finger possessed by a human being, really.”

“Who says it's for your finger?” John asks. It takes several seconds of staring, nonplussed, at his eyebrow waggling, before you get it.

Oh, this _motherfucker._

 _“John,”_ you hiss. “Did you just propose to me with a fucking _cockring?”_

He giggles.

You are so fucking done.

 

\---

 

Your name is John Egbert and you have the best boyfriend in the world.

After a week of avoiding you after that incident (not an easy task considering you share an apartment at this point), Karkat insists you watch the shitty romcom the two of you were watching a few years ago. You go along with it, grudgingly. After a week of Karkat silence, you were pretty much willing to do anything for him at this point. Karkat stubbornly ignores your attempts at conversation and kissing both throughout the film, only allowing your cuddling to delve into making out at the credits.

When his pants come off later, you see he's wearing your gift. You don't think you've ever been happier.

The next day, you take him out (to _Au Poivre,_ of course, with a reservation like a smart person) and propose for real.

 

\---

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are not sure what to say right now.

Well, yes, you are actually.

“Glorious.”

 


End file.
